Quirks and Dalliances: A Drabble Series
by profoundlycan
Summary: A compilation of drabbles involving various characters, mainly Urahara and Yoruichi.
1. Lunch

**1.**

**Title**: Lunch**  
Disclaimer**: Characters belong to Kubo-sensei. I write this purely for entertainment purposes.**  
****Rating**: K+**  
Pairing/Characters**: Urahara/Yoruichi**  
Word Count**: 401**  
Warnings**: Sexual innuendo, but that's really a given for these two.  
**Summary**: In which hunger and bribery are two very formidable forces.  
**A/N**: I noticed I had several drabbles on my computer that was just rotting on my hard drive. I figured I might as well post'em. Mostly my endeavors at being humorous and fluffy, though there will inevitably be angsty ones as well.

* * *

Karakura town was filled with various places to eat, with lots of variety and kind people. Bored and done with various chores around the house, Yoruichi stepped through the threshold where Urahara currently tinkered with his latest, crazy idea. Clearing her throat, he looked away from his project and a wide grin spread across his face.

"Yoruichi-san!"

"I'm hungry."

"There's plenty of food in the fridge. I'm sure there's some yogurt, cheese, milk, or other dairy product you could indulge in."

She crossed her arms. "While that may be true, I'm thinking a nice lunch out somewhere would do us some good. One, neither of us would have to cook. Two, fresh air is nice. Three, it's time you got out of this stuffy place, bathed, and wore something other than that nasty _haori_ and stupid hat."

He stared at her, his eyes widening into that 'wounded puppy' look she hated oh so much. "Why, Yoru-san, I thought you liked my quirky ensemble?"

"I do, but only when you haven't been sitting in it for three days straight, cooped up doing one of your experiments." Offhandedly, she added, "I think I may have made a mistake in giving you that hat… Please, just get off your ass and accompany me to lunch. I'll make it worth your while..."

"Oh, Yoru-san, there's no need for bribery, not that I mind when you sweeten the pot," he winked and she rolled her eyes. He removed whatever contraption he had on his head, something which had a monocle and light affixed to it, then stretched mightily with his hands reaching far above him. "Where do you care to dine, my lovely kitty-cat?"

"I'm not completely sure, but while you shower and dress - no apparel which resembles a hat, _geta_, or your _haori_ - I will search the 'net." Yet again, that 'wounded puppy' look came upon his face. She rolled her eyes again and stepped closer to him, but stopped and waved a hand dramatically beneath her nose. "Kisuke, you reek! Either you shower and change or there will be no afternoon dessert."

"I didn't know they served dessert at this time of day..." He gazed at her quizzically only to receive a suggestive eyebrow raise from her. Upon reflection, he sprinted to the bathroom.

Grinning at her victory, she walked from the room contemplating whether she wanted tempura or sushi for lunch.


	2. Diamond

**2.**

**Title**: Diamond  
**Rating**: K  
**Pairing/Characters**: (Urahara)/Yoruichi, Yoruichi's mother  
**Word Count**: 293  
**Warnings**: Sappy angst.  
**Summary**: Diamonds and exiled Shinigami, 'nough said.  
**A/N**: Obviously, I was in a damper of a mood. And for some reason I can't get the idea outta my head that Yoruichi has a complicated relationship with her mother.

* * *

His diamond in the ruff, he'd called her upon confession. Her heart pounded rhythmically, almost bursting forth through her ribcage at such a description; as for most of her life she had always been described with such euphemisms as 'rough', 'unashamed', and most thoroughly 'uncompromising', but never in a complimenting manner. Since her childhood, her mother had deigned her unfit to one day rein as head of her clan, but here her childhood friend had called her a diamond. A shimmering jewel left in the arid dust to sparkle until someone of worth found her. Thankfully, her complexion hid her blush well, though it didn't help the stinging of her eyes as tears threatened to spill.

The two Shinigami were exiles now. Diamonds left to collect dirt and debris as they were lost from their proverbial owner. They were no longer wanted by the likes of Sereitei. She was sure her mother would froth at the mouth upon hearing of her daughter's betrayal, of her daughter stripping herself of the glitz and glamour the woman had so carefully sprinkled in her eyes and blinded her to the truth. The truth that being the daughter of the most highly esteemed family of Sereitei, as well as the Executive Leader of the most demanding militia, was not nearly as special as everyone made it out to be. She had been simply following her orders, leading herself down a path she had never wished to take, until one day a young boy with straw-colored hair sought to change her outlook and in turn shattered almost every view she'd been spoon fed since birth.

She owed this to him, for he had unlocked her heart and set her soul soaring, shining like a diamond in the sun.


	3. Gravity

**3.**

**Title**: Gravity  
**Rating**: K  
**Pairing/Characters**: Yoruichi, Urahara  
**Word Count**: 378  
**Warnings**: Angstiness again.  
**Summary**: It wasn't regret that filled her heart...  
**A/N**: Yet again, the whole "Yoruichi has a complicated relationship with her mother" stuff. Also, expect several drabbles to come involving their exile.

* * *

Yoruichi Shihōin was a woman of noble blood and lineage. A lovely piece of China left in a cabinet to collect dust is often what she felt like as she sat completely still, her muscles twitching within. Her mother would scold her if she moved, if she unsettled the dust that weighed upon her. The older woman smiled beneath her militaristic exterior, nothing to show but the jewels on her fingers and the daughter she proceeded to carefully mold to the family's expectations. The Shihōin princess' shelf life would not last long if kept under the thumb of her family's reputation. Beneath the toned, exotic skin and golden eyes that harbored a wild, untendered young woman, was a crack in the porcelain.

It was with the utmost fear and exhilaration that Shunshin Yoruichi wrapped the family heirloom around her face and quickly dispersed from the second squad's barracks. She couldn't count how many steps she took or how she managed to carry the weight of the Kidō Squad's fuku-taicho, but she did. She had one more destination left, a destination which many captains had never laid eyes upon. Dropping off the last of the hollowified victims, she made for one last stop as she flashed to the dome of the Central 46. Though she didn't quite have stealth on her side, due to her unique looks, she had her most prized title to keep her faith in place.

The gravity of the situation stifled any enjoyment she could get out of the wide-eyed shock she received from Urahara Kisuke. She simply stepped up, grabbed the two men and high-tailed it out of there, flash stepping past the unconscious guards whose limp bodies littered the hall. No one would stop her tonight, not even the idea of the unknown future ahead of them.

"I'm quite unpleasant, aren't I?" he later asked her, his eyes clouded by grief.

"If you say so," she responded, not bothering to correct him. She was too tired for such right now, and her heart had yet to quit hammering beneath her ribcage. Sadly, it wasn't regret that filled her heart as she allowed him to wrap his arms around her and the weight of the night fall upon her shoulders. It was everything but.


	4. Policy

**4.**

**Title**: Policy  
**Rating**: T  
**Pairing/Characters**: Renji, Urahara/Yoruichi  
**Word Count**: 593  
**Warnings**: Light cursing, cluelessness, and sexual innuendo, oh my! *cough*  
**Summary**: Urahara Shoten has some interesting policies, particularly in how they're worded.  
**A/N**: Trying to get away from the angst. Pure crack with more to come in the future, muwahahaha!

* * *

"So wait a second, you actually have rules in this place?"

"Think of them more as guidelines, Renji-san."

"Guidelines?"

"Yes, should you choose not to follow these supposed guidelines, _Urahara Shoten_ is not responsible for any physical or mental inflictions the victimized party may suffer at the present or future time."

"That sounds like legal jargon."

"It would be wise to think of it as such."

"And what's this mean, 'Any room which possesses a barrier - physical or spiritual - should be rapped upon by the knuckles or the _zanpakuto_ of the party wishing to enter. Approach with caution. Trauma imminent.'?"

"It's a simple 'please knock before entering'. I surely thought _fuku-taichos_ were smarter than this!"

"I am smart, you bast--but it doesn't at all explain the trauma shit tagged on the end!"

"Then you must be learned to what that means!" Urahara tapped Renji on the head with his fan and stepped back into his bedroom, sliding the door shut in Renji's face.

Renji's face scrunched in contempt at the loaded bullshit on the paper held in hand. He'd heard rumors of the man's absurdities, but much of what he'd experienced so far went far beyond absurd and categorized straight into torture. After several minutes of pause, the Shinigami eventually stomped in the general direction of his "room", which served more as a hole-in-the-wall storage space rather than a guest room. As he entered, he didn't notice the rapt golden eyes of an amused black cat in the corner.

Yoruichi jumped from her perch and daintily jogged (much how cats did) and transformed mid-step before entering her destination. She slid the door quietly shut and was neither startled nor surprised by the silky, leisurely voice of the futon's occupant. "What took my beautiful _hime_ so long?"

She suppressed the urge to roll her eyes, "Stop with the _hime_ crap, Kisuke," she stated pointedly. "I was waiting for Renji to finally leave to his quarters. He seemed pretty upset by the knocking policy. I told you that wording it like that would cause confusion..." The woman raised one perfectly tweezed brow and crossed her arms, an entertained expression upon her lovely face, yet her tapping foot gave way her impatience.

Urahara shrugged his shoulders and threw his legs over the side of the futon. The man had all ready stripped himself of his clothing and crossed the room in his birthday suit. He cocked his head to one side and reached a hand forward, caressing the back of it against her cheek.

"No worries, no worries. I suppose my expectations for _Shinigami_ to have high reading comprehensions is just too much to ask..."

If it weren't for the very distracting gestures the man made toward her, Yoruichi would've slapped him. Though, the effort would be wasted considering they'd soon be very distracted by more interesting and fun activities. The entire conversation would quickly be forgotten.

"Sometimes I think you do such things for your own sadistic pleasure..." She managed to finally say as she pushed him onto the mattress and proceeded to straddle him.

He sat up on his elbows, a wicked grin spreading on his lips. "Oh, what a naughty kitty I have tonight, invoking such terrible, terrible thoughts. Sadistic or not, Renji-san will eventually learn exactly what that policy means. Jinta sure did. I'll never forget the poor lad's face when he walked in on us."

Yoruichi laughed heartily at the memory. "The whole reason the rule exists," she breathed into his ear before sinking her teeth into him.


	5. Meek

**5.**

**Title**: Meek**  
Rating**: K+**  
Pairing/Characters**: Yoruichi, Jinta, Ururu, Tessai, Urahara**  
Word Count**: 324**  
Warnings**: Some violence, bit of cursing, and Urahara being, well... himself.**  
Summary**: Watch out for the quiet ones.**  
A/N**: Reading Bleach theories always sparks ideas, no matter how unrelated.

* * *

It was a day like any other. The sky was blue and the birds were chirping annoyingly, interrupting the lulling sleep Yoruichi was falling into. She stretched her graceful limbs in the sunlight, her fur practically glistening in the light. Turning in a circle a couple times and kneading her paws into the lovely purple cushion that was hers and hers alone, her ears caught the sound of an impending confrontation.

Lying down again, she kept her head up as she gazed with golden eyes at Jinta once again bullying Ururu. The ornery boy pulled at her pigtails and yelled at her for telling him what to do, and while Yoruichi would usually step in, there was this inexplicable whisper in the air that made her ears twitch like they were catching satellite signals and told her to remain still and observe.

Her tail swished steadily in anticipation and she eventually sat up as the demon child's voice raised an octave to his older counterpart, only for his words to die in his throat when Ururu raised a fist and clocked him right in the eye. At this point Yoruichi's eyes dilated and widened considerably at witnessing the usually meek girl lose her shit on the younger boy.

And yes, usually Yoruichi would definitely step in at this point, but she was too busy enjoying the demon child receiving a very large dose of his own medicine.

At dinner that night, Tessai frowned when Ururu and Jinta sat at the table. Kisuke removed his line of vision from Yoruichi's cleavage (_seeing that she was wearing the corset he loved so dearly)_ and glanced at their charges, guffawing loudly at the giant shiner on Jinta's left eye, as well as several bruises and scrapes.

"What the hell happened to you?" he laughed, putting his fan down on the table as he doubled over laughing.

Yoruichi snorted behind her glass. "Ururu grew a backbone, that's what."


	6. Pillar

**6.**

**Title**: Pillar**  
Rating**: K+**  
Pairing/Characters**: Yoruichi, Urahara, Jinta**  
Word Count**: 790**  
Warnings**: ANGST.**  
Summary**: Post manga chapter 213, after Ururu's awesome display of her mode genocide and her horrible injury. Sometimes, we all need a bit of comfort.**  
A/N**: I've been rereading the manga and always thought this needed to be written. Though, my attempt is quite shitty really.

* * *

A somber wind blew through the dreary shop, low lights filling various rooms of the house and a boy staring wide-eyed at nothing. His hands covered his knobby knees, and his knuckles were white with strain. He could hear the voices in the room behind him, the eerie glow of healing light illuminating the doorway, but he couldn't make out the words that were said. Using the wall, he pushed himself up off the floor, the horror-struck expression never leaving him as he wandered mindlessly to his destination.

There, he found her.

Yoruichi glanced up from her book when she heard faint footsteps outside the room, only to see Jinta step inside. He blinked owlishly at her, the color drained completely from his face and she could see his trembling hands awkwardly attempting to fold together in front of him. Placing her book on the bedside table, she summoned him to lie next to her, patting the area beside her. He hurriedly crawled across the futon, briefly pausing to stare at her then dove to embrace her, the tell-tale sounds of sobs engulfing his small frame.

She wrapped her arms around him in a loving embrace, making comforting shushing sounds every so often and rocking him. They remained like this for almost an hour, she allowing him to calm down before speaking.

"She'll be all right," she whispered. "Kisuke and Tessai will make sure of that."

"I-I should've b-been able to s-stop her," he sniffled.

"Stop that." She lifted his chin to force him to look at her, though he protested. "Look at me, Jinta." He reluctantly gazed at her. "There is no blame here. What happened, happened. You did your best, and you were there when she needed someone to catch her. So stop blaming yourself, ya hear me?" He nodded, sitting up straighter and messily wiped at his eyes with the backs of his hands.

"We've all had a long day and we're all worried. Why don't you get ready for bed and sleep this off?" She suggested as he scooted off the bed and toward the door, and she too threw her legs over the side of the bed. "I'm sure you'll be able to talk to her tomorrow, though just know she probably won't be up to her usual activities for another few days. Okay?"

He inclined his head and quickly walked from the room, bumping straight into the owner.

"S-sorry," the disturbed boy stated, his voice strained and eyes rimmed in red.

"It's alright, Jinta. Do what Yoruichi-san says. I'll be there in fifteen to make sure you've brushed your teeth."

Jinta balked at this, but proceeded down the corridor nonetheless. Urahara leaned against the frame of the entranceway, crossing his arms and gazing at the floor.

"How is she?" Yoruichi stood and stretched, walking over to him.

"No longer critical," was all he said, and she inclined her head in response. "'Nother couple o' days and she'll be back up on her feet. I give it a good week before she's up to her normal activities." He paused, removing his eyes from the floor and to the lovely woman next to him. "What about Jinta?"

She shrugged. "The kid'll be fine. He's tough. Though, it's not something he'll ever forget, I'm sure."

"I'm sure," he repeated.

"We're such parents sometimes," she laughed darkly, shaking her head.

Kisuke smiled grimly. "Yeah, except that no father would equip his daughter with a mode that allows her to beat the shit out of his enemies, and gets her almost killed in the process." At this point, the smile had long faded from his face.

Yoruichi stepped closer and peered at his shadowed face. His eyes were shrouded by the lid of his hat, but the evident hollowed half circles beneath them could not be hidden. As well, the gathering watery sign of insomnia, worry, and self-loathing brimmed his lower lids and a solitary tear trailed down his face. She reached her hands upward and cupped his face, brushing a thumb across his cheek and rubbing the wetness into his skin.

"I think we should get to bed, too," she suggested, her breath warm against his collar bone and weariness heavy in her words.

He encircled her tiny wrists with his large hands and lowered her arms from near his face. He swallowed thickly, "I think you're right," and let go. As he started down the hallway, he stopped momentarily and turned to her. "Always the pillar, Yoru," a haunting half-smile apparent in the darkness before his retreating back graced her vision once more. She simply sighed and slid the door quietly shut as she went to go wash her face, hoping for a dreamless sleep that night.


	7. Opportunities

**7.**

**Title**: Opportunities**  
Rating**: T**  
Pairing/Characters**: Urahara/Yoruichi**  
Word Count**: 517**  
Warnings**: Some borderline smuttiness and heavy innuendo. Basically these two being themselves.**  
Summary**: _Whenever the cat of the house is black, the lasses of lovers will have no lack_, or so the saying goes, unless of course you live at _Urahara Shoten_.  
**A/N**: I decided to add this since it annoys me to see anything with less than a thousand words considered a one-shot when it's really just a drabble, especially on my story page. Originally titled "Overflow". Apologies to those who had favorited the previous incarnation. Anyway, shoddy interpretation saying at best.

* * *

It was a lazy afternoon at _Urahara Shoten_. The only two occupants of the household were held up in the owner's bedroom, spending their quality time doing things they only managed to find time to do when no one was home. With Renji as a freeloading tenant, Chad spending from dusk until dawn training, having two wide-eyed little Hell demons in the household, as well as Tessai, Yoruichi and Urahara hardly found any time to spend together. Though, with Jinta and Ururu accompanying Tessai on errands, Renji on Shinigami duties and Chad gone to Hueco Mundo with Ichigo and Ishida, the entire store was absolutely still, except for the two adults in the bedroom.

Limbs were tangled, bodies interlocked and ecstasy written on the faces of Kisuke and Yoruichi as their passion overflowed, too long without a physical connection left both with pent up sexual frustrations, which were now being thoroughly expressed. Her legs were wrapped tightly around his hips and her nails proceeded to scratch marks down his back while he defiled her for the fourth time that day. Neither gave a damn about the housework needing done or the bills that lay scattered and forgotten on his desk. This time was their time, and the person be damned who interrupted them.

It was several hours later that the two lay panting and out of breath, their cheeks flushed and their bodies exhausted from their vigorous "exercise". He lay on top of her, his grayish blue eyes watching her golden, cat-like ones, languid smiles upon both their lips. She gently lifted her head and caught his mouth in a soft kiss, and when they broke apart he rested his forehead against hers and blew a gentle breath.

"It's been way too long," he breathed, rolling off of her and bringing her close to him, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

Her hair was matted to her forehead by sweat and she rested her head on his chest, which had a healthy sheen of perspiration. "Oh yeah..." She was still trying to catch her breath. "And it was a _very_ good one, too." A feral grin came upon her face whilst she gazed up at him. "I don't understand why we can't do this more often."

"Because Jinta and Ururu are too curious for their own good, Tessai's constantly going in and out of the stock rooms, and Renji and Chad are usually training. Though, I'm sure while everyone's now occupied with various important things, and the Old Man's not busy handing me assignments, we can find _plenty_ more opportunities." He sported a very suggestive smile and circled his fingers along the curve of her hip. "We really don't get enough play time, Kitty."

"We really don't." _Not like we used to_, she thought. "Though, I'm sure if I haven't completely worn you out, we could go another round..."

"I'm not so sure about that... Though, if you're talking about a shower together, I'm sure I can conjure up enough energy to at least get out of this bed and fit that in before Tessai gets home."


	8. Promise

**8.**

**Title**: Promise**  
Rating**: K+**  
Pairing/Characters**: Urahara/Yoruichi**  
Word Count**: 757  
**Warnings**: Fluff + Angst = FLANGST.**  
Summary**: Sometimes we think we're doing what's best by pushing those away that we love.**  
A/N**: I decided to add this since it annoys me to see anything with less than a thousand words considered a one-shot when it's really just a drabble, especially on my story page. Originally titled "Still the Faster". Apologies to those who had favorited and reviewed the previous incarnation. Also, TRUFAX, this was my first foray into Bleach fan fiction.

* * *

He grabbed her wrists and lifted her arms, pushing them against her and coming so close to her she could feel his breath caress her cheek. Chaos reigned around them, the newly hollowified _taichous_ and _fukutaichous_ on the vestiges of consciousness, and the days' events catching up with the now former captain of the 12th squad. She gazed imploringly into his eyes, dark bruise-like circles around them and his pupils unfocused as he held her against him.

"Don't come with me," he enunciated pleadingly. "Please, Yoruichi, don't follow me into exile."

She stared at him incredulously. "No, Kisuke. Where _you_ go, _I_ go."

Shihōin Yoruichi understood his motive for asking her not to accompany him, and while it was simultaneously both absolutely endearing and stupid, she refused to take no for an answer.

"I am not allowing you to do this alone."

"I won't be alone," he stated hastily. "Tessai will be with me, and we'll find a safe haven for Shinji, Hiyori, and the others. I promise you that I won't be stupid about this, but I can't let you come with me. I can't let you drop everything and let all your hard work go to waste because I made the decision to do something this dangerous."

"Shut up, Kisuke! Yes, it was stupid, but when have you ever thought about the consequences? Do you really think that you wouldn't have been banished eventually? Much like my own curiosity, your mind will never be caged. Don't shut me out now." She shook her head. She could feel the prickle of tears edging along her eyes. "Don't leave me behind just so you can keep your manly pride intact, not when you need me most you bastard."

He violently dropped her wrists back to her sides, and she was surprised to find herself unconsciously rubbing them, not realizing that he'd been holding them so tight.

"Yoruichi, you have done more than your fair share's worth of noble things for me. More than I could have ever dreamed, my beauty, but if I allow you to follow… to give up all the things you've earned and have so deserved... I will never forgive myself."

Yoruichi actually rolled her eyes at that one. "Kisuke, it doesn't matter if I came with you or not. I know you, and I know that you would feel guilty either way. Really, I wouldn't have risked doing this so carelessly had I planned to stay in Sereitei. Do you honestly believe that no one in the Central 46 recognized me, or the guards that I knocked unconscious getting there?"

"You are the Goddess of Flash, _Hime_. I really doubt they actually saw who you were. Though, there are no others who are comparable to you."

"Except you, even if I'm still the faster one," she added without a second thought. Those grayish blue eyes of his sought her golden ones once again, begging her not to invest herself further in his mistakes. "We don't have much time, Kisuke. We need to do what we need to do before they discover us."

Before he could protest again, she flash-stepped and was against him in an instant, her finger pressed to his lips and his height practically dwarfing her. "I am coming with you, you bastard, whether you want me to or not, and _that is final_. I understand why you're being like this, but we don't have time to hash this out here. _We need to go_."

Sighing in defeat, Urahara Kisuke nodded and removed her hand from his mouth. Then in a move that surprised even Shunshin Yoruichi, he brought his hands up to hold her head then kissed the top of her hair. "Promise me," he started, removing one hand to brush his knuckles against her cheek, "that you will kick my ass once we're safe. Promise that you'll yell at me, make me do all the chores, and torture me to make up for this..."

She smiled, the former prickling sting of tears now falling freely down her face. "You bet your ass I will. Now quit being a sap," she punched his chest, sending him reeling back, and quickly did away with any evidence that she was crying. "We have a long journey ahead of us."

Kisuke hissed at the leftover pain from her punch and watched her stalk off to gather their supplies. In spite of himself, a wide grin graced his youthful though exhausted face and then he shook his head. "What would I do without you…"


	9. Entangle

**9.**

**Title**: Entangle**  
Rating**: Heavy T**  
Pairing/Characters**: Urahara/Yoruichi**  
Word Count**: 612**  
Warnings**: Borderline smut and rife with innuendo. Such is Urahara and Yoruichi.**  
Summary**: He always had a thing for her hair.**  
A/N**: "Write or Die" session which turned into _this_. Oddly enough, I had every intention of writing Avatar, but of course the muse had very different ideas…

* * *

_Silk and down feather_.

It was exactly what he thought of when he twirled his fingers in those lavishly soft, purple locks of hers, and he honestly thought her hair was the softest thing in the world.

At night he would find himself spooning her and inhaling the sweet scent of yucca and lavender that emitted from her damp, washed hair. And in the morning he would wake to its dried softness and her complaints about his fingers tangled in her hair, though the smile on her face contradicted her ire.

He always had thing for her hair. Whether cropped in short tufts or a mane of waist-length tendrils, he had always loved to run his hands through it and entangle it. And often times he would receive a prompt punch to the chest when he knotted the hair she so meticulously groomed. Simultaneously he would laugh and wince, and she in turn would do the same to his hair to see how it felt to have someone snarl it much the way he did hers. Her mouth had tensed at the corners when she realized there was no need, as his hair was not particularly kempt. Clean, but definitely not kempt. Instead, she grabbed a fistful and pulled at it and then he would find himself wincing again, begging for her to quit. Since before their academy days, Kisuke had made it a ritual to rile her to such extremes at least once a week. Yoruichi eventually deemed him a masochist. That his cruisin'-for-a-bruisin' mentality only served to get his ass kicked at each and every turn, and that he obviously enjoyed it.

Unfortunately - or fortunately? - Urahara Kisuke never outgrew his masochistic tendencies when it came to her or his sadistic love of her hair. It was a decade or so later after their exile that she returned from her exploration of the living world, and he had stood stock still at the back door of the shack he lived to see her standing before him, unabashedly nude and those luxurious locks curled at their ends and flowing just past her elbows. He dropped the stitching he'd been holding - having ripped his clothing earlier in the day - and brought her into a tight embrace and drew her into a most heated kiss.

Since the day they'd first met, he had never been separated or very far from his felonious companion. It was absolute torture for him when she had felt the need to leave; feeling suffocated in the living word as she did, and had left him to his own devices. Now here she returned to him, her dark skin in such lovely contrast to his own pallid complexion. He explored her mouth, much like a pioneer sifting gold out of a river, roughly caressing her tongue with his own. When they came up for air, his hands roamed shamelessly from the curve of her hips to around her buttocks and up the sinuous slope of her back, his fingers entangling in her hair.

"Always the hair with you," she heaved breathlessly, burying her nose in the crook of his neck, planting a light kiss there and nipping him gently.

"It's addicting," he stated, bringing his hands up further and massaging her neck through the purple strands. "Like silk and down feather."

She gave a soft groan at the sensation of his fingers pressing tenderly into her skin, massaging the tenseness from her neck. She soon felt his other hand move southward along her curves once more and she gasped at a new presence elsewhere.

"Though, the coarse curls here are a different story," he breathed sinfully.


	10. Instructions

**10.**

**Title**: Instructions**  
Rating**: T**  
Pairing/Characters**: Urahara, Yoruichi**  
Word Count**: 813**  
Warnings**: Just a bit of innocent innuendo. Nothing too lecherous, I assure you, unless you count Urahara himself.**  
Summary**: In which Urahara uses elaborate stunts to get his way.**  
A/N**: I apologize for not updating in a while. I've had ideas, but just haven't been able to find my "voice". Anyway, I couldn't sleep last night, and this idea just hit me like a ton of bricks. The writing's shit, but I'm sure it's still enjoyable. Also, I changed the rating on this series to T, because these two always manage to add a small, inexplicably naughty element every time I write them.

* * *

It didn't matter how many centuries she lived; it never ceased to amaze her how some things would never change.

"They're likely in one of these drawers, Kisuke. If you wait one minute, I'm sure I can find them, and you won't have to risk electrocuting yourself," she stated cheekily, arms crossed and one foot tapping impatiently.

"Yoru, I almost have this. All I gotta do is connect some wires without touching them together. I'm sure I'm not gonna fry these good looks of mine." He paused in his activity to grin at her, his hat falling sloppily over his eyes.

"It'd probably work better if you could see," she snatched the hat from atop his head, placing it on her own. She glanced over her shoulder to see how she looked in the small mirror near the kitchen's entrance, and then proceeded to rummage through the counter drawers.

"Actually," he turned to her once again, "could you hold this flashlight?" he gestured the object toward her.

She didn't stop what she was doing, but answered in return, "I don't wish to get any closer than I have to." She eyed the broken appliance suspiciously.

"What happened to curiosity?"

"Didn't curiosity _kill_ the cat? Besides, 1) I'm not a cat, and 2) my curiosity has its limits. Livewires happens to be one of them, particularly when one happens to be in unstable hands."

"Unstable?" he uttered, seemingly hurt but not fooling anyone, especially her. "These hands happen to be _very_ steady. _You should know_," he added suggestively.

Yoruichi rolled her eyes. "You know exactly what I meant and I'm not reiterating my point."

Knowing that this banter would be never-ending and that she promised Soi Fon she'd stop to visit today, she resigned herself to her fate and took the blasted light from his waiting hand. Squatting next to him, she pointed the light in the general direction he needed and sighed. "You know, I don't understand why this couldn't wait until Tessai and the kids got back."

"And deny ourselves a wonderful dinner?"

"_Right_. Because there isn't a perfectly _good_, _working_ _stove_ that happens to sit nex— AH!"

Yoruichi yelped in surprise and she fell flat on her behind. She blinked several times before her eyes adjusted to the smoke leftover from the livewire sparking mere centimeters from her face. Seeing the sheepish grimace on his face, her eyes narrowed and she abruptly stood and began to sift through the drawers again, this time producing a pamphlet that had the logo of the oven on the front. It was then Urahara knew _it_ was coming… that dreaded '_I told you so_.' Didn't matter how it was worded, it always had the same implication, and the possibility that he'd be sleeping on the couch.

"Hmm, I wonder what this could be…" she thumbed through the pamphlet and paused, then turned the open page for him to see. "Oh, look what I found! Something about – Oh! – not messing with livewires just for the hell of it!"

She threw the paper and flashlight at him, hearing a very loud ouch as she went to leave, but stopped mid-step when an unintelligible whisper reached her ears.

"What was _that_, Kisuke? I didn't quite hear you."

"I could've easily figured this out."

"Then why didn't you?"

"What do _you_ think? Using instructions is like forfeiting the battle. You gotta keep your opponent on his toes."

"You can't personify an oven like it's your sparring partner. This is some kind of 'man' thing, isn't it? These hundred-some years in the real world has definitely has put some strange sense of manly ego in you. I may just have to snuff it out if this keeps up. Besides, if using instructions equates to admitting defeat, explain the instructions you write for your damn, complicated inventions?"

"My inventions are not complicated," he stated proudly, standing up and allowing the wire to carefully hang. "They just aren't for the simple-minded."

She amended, "Or those lacking god complexes."

"Precisely!" he grabbed his hat from off her head and walked straight out of the kitchen.

Yoruichi gazed after him and shook her head. Noticing the mess, she crouched down again and skimmed the instructions and rewired the damn oven herself in a matter of minutes. Before long, the snickering behind her caught her attention and she stood upright once again, dusting her hands together, not even bothering to waste her energy to glare at him again. Instead, she lifted the flashlight from off the floor and bonked him on the head with it. Kisuke cried out - something vaguely sounding like 'husband abuse', and crumpled to his knees in a performance that only he could pull.

She had completely forgotten how much of a turn on it was for him to see her - a former princess - be handy around the house.


	11. TellTail

**11.**

**Title**: Tell-Tail**  
Rating**: K**  
Pairing/Characters**: Urahara/Yoruichi**  
Word Count**: 420**  
Warnings**: None. Wait, _what_?  
**Summary**: Yoruichi's return.**  
A/N**: Happy Thanksgiving to those celebrating today. This piece is based off a fanart by **DakotaAngie** at Deviant Art. You can find it at this address: _http : // dakotaangie [dot] deviantart [dot] com [backslash] art [backslash] Urahara-and-Yoruichi-45064207_. (Obviously, take out the spaces and replace bracketed words with its symbol counterpart.)

I feel this could've been written a lot better, but oh well. I apologize for the lack of updates. Classes and some real life curve balls have really cut into my writing time, as well as just having no desire to do so, but NaNoWriMo has helped somewhat on that. Anyway, there will likely be some other characters and pairings introduced into this little series. Possibilities include but are not limited to: Rangiku/Gin, Isshin and Ryuuken, Soi Fon, Starrk/Harribel, and any other characters and pairings I feel like branching into. Now that I've rambled on for a bit, enjoy!

* * *

As the day drew to a close, Urahara slipped into his room and slid the rice paper door shut behind him. He removed his hat and placed it on the stand near the door then flopped onto his futon, jarring Yoruichi from her sleep. The cat peered menacingly at him, tail swishing in annoyance. She briefly considered taking a swat at him, but thought better of it as she realized she needed a good stretch and stood on her four paws, stretching her back into a perfect arch of that only a cat could accomplish. Urahara reached a hand forward from where he lay across from her, gently scratching at the base of her tail then began petting her from head to tail. While Yoruichi was still rather peeved at being woken by the slamming of his body onto the mattress, she couldn't help but indulge in the perks of being a cat, her purring betraying how much her annoyance had dissipated.

"So how do cats purr?"

"After that stunt you pulled," she paused briefly, nudging his hand to scratch behind her ear, "I'm not telling."

"What stunt? I simply wished to be close to my neko-san, considering she's been gone for too long." He stopped scratching behind her ear, then perched his head on his crossed arms. "Where did you go this time? South? West? Possibly the Middle East?"

Yoruichi sat on her haunches, licking at a paw then brushing it across her brow, repeating this several times before she answered, "I didn't go too far. I stayed on the continent, traveling southward for the most part. I did stop in Nepal and Laos, but I mainly lived in the Philippines and Indonesia."

He smiled. "I'm sure you've a hundred tales to regale me with."

"I bet I have."

They momentarily sat in silence, comfortably staring at one another. He noticed that her tail had stopped its pendulum-like swing and simply stood straight, wafting from one side to the other this time.

Breaking her gaze, he glanced at an arbitrary spot in the room. "I missed you," he then said, making eye contact once more. While he noted no change in her face, he did see that her tail had paused and had now begun to quiver. His lips quirked into a knowing smile, understanding that he would not hear a word from her on the subject and that she prided herself on always showing exactly how she felt rather than telling him.

Emboldened, Yoruichi stood and head-butted him.


	12. Perfection

**12**.

**Title**: Perfection**  
Rating**: K+**  
Pairing/Characters**: Urahara/Yoruichi**  
Word Count**: 163**  
Warnings**: None again… Should I be worried?**  
Summary**: Grooming and perfection.**  
A/N**: Happy Birthday, Urahara-san!

* * *

In spite of her forthcoming personality and shirking what many would consider lady-like behavior, Yoruichi had one of the most intense grooming rituals of a woman he'd ever known. Though she wore her hair in a fashionably messy pony tail, her deep violet tresses were brushed at least twice a day and smelt distinctly of honey. He also knew well that she clipped, filed, buffered, and too painted her sharp talons in dark pearly shades that sent him into sensory overdrive when she'd rake them down his back and shoulders. When showering, she always used an exfoliator, soap, and a moisturizer; leaving her skin so soft to the touch that it left him conflicted with his want to touch every part of such sensuous skin and not wishing to mar her with his calloused, unworthy hands. And while he firmly—staunchly—believed that perfection did not exist, describing Yoruichi left him speechless because it was always the first word that came to mind.


	13. Salt

**13.**

**Title**: Salt**  
Rating**: K**  
Pairing/Characters**: Yoruichi, Soi Fon**  
Word Count**: 118**  
Warnings**: None.**  
Summary**: Time does not heal all wounds.  


* * *

The young woman fell before her, upper body stock still and eyes wide and tearful. The question the older woman had been dreading for a century spilled forth from the now captain's lips, sounding like salt was pouring into a raw, open wound.

Yoruichi had expected confrontation. She had expected a fight between herself and her former protégé. It had been a dominating win in spite of her 100-year absence from battle. But she had not expected this young, broken woman kneeling before her, eyes pleading for an answer to the question she didn't have an answer to. And the only words that her mind kept repeating but her pride wouldn't allow her to say were '_I'm sorry_.'


	14. Colorless

**13.**

**Title**: Colorless  
**Rating**: K+  
**Spoilers**: From around 390 onward.  
**Pairing/Characters**: Gin  
**Word Count**: 156  
**Warnings**: None**  
Summary**: He watches and understands.  
**A/N**: This was written some time ago, towards the end of February. A friend and I were having a write-in and she gave me the prompt _colorless_.**  


* * *

**

Atop the building he watched. Sly and fox-like, a feral bemusement on his face as the battle waged below. Either no one dared to fight him or, plainly, they considered their main and only target the man with the slicked back hair. He was just a colorless figure blending into the background. He honestly wondered how no one could see through the veneer of power that Aizen currently encapsulated them. The outcome did not matter in the end, though, whether the Shinigami realized their fatal mistake or if they, laughably, actual succeeded. Death was the only outcome. He knew very well that should he fail to deliver Aizen would have his pretty little head on a pretty little platter or the Gotei 13 would execute him for high treason. He wished to avoid either situation, and he sometimes dabbled with the idea of a neutral ground in there somewhere, but where was the fun in that?


	15. Collide

**Title**: Collide**  
Rating**: T**  
Spoilers**: Manga 404, 405**  
Summary**: There is no stopping her.**  
Word Count**: 385  
**Inspiration**: _I've found a world where love and dreams and darkness all collide_. - "Together Again", Evanescence

* * *

She was starting to sweat. She felt like she had run a marathon yet she was merely pacing herself—a quick hobble, a sharp pain emitting from her right side. She had heard Kira cry her name, cry for her to stop, but she wouldn't. She _couldn't_. If she stopped the pain would increase and the emotional turmoil of the last couple months would remain, stagnant as ever. This was her last chance to confront him and she'd be damned if she allowed him to stop her, anyone to stop her.

A loud whooshing sound began in her left ear, in a rhythm similar to her heartbeat. She had dreamt—had nightmares, of meeting him again face to face. An unerring frown would replace his usual enigmatic smile, and there were no misconceptions left between them as she'd watch him squint at her, revealing a comforting smidge of blue. Oh, how she dreamt often of those eyes zeroing in on her. Did not matter if there was negativity, positivity, or neutrality shown within them, as long as she could see just a score of those icy blues her heart remained whole. But slowly her happiness would dissipate and the world turned dark. The dream would spiral and blood would splatter. She would be back right where she started, questioning where he was going as spilled blood coagulated. He would simply turn to her, catch her frightened eyes, and then walk away from her. What began in triumph ended in defeat, hope slashed like her skin. She'd wake with her face wet and the loud whooshing sound of her heart in her ears, much like it was now.

She held no delusions as to the likely outcome of this battle. She confronted the possibility of death each time she fell asleep, and as she urged herself to go faster memories flashed before her tearful eyes and her heart only ached further. Her legs burned, lactic acid increasing with each step, but she would _not_ stop. She would either die by his hand or from the almost crippling wound she'd sustained earlier. Neither were a great option but she could hardly muster the strength to care. She needed to get to him, confront him, and end this never-ending, sadistic cycle they'd begun. Maybe then she'd be free.


	16. Judgment

**Title**: Judgment**  
Rating**: K**  
Pairing/Characters**: Yoruichi, Urahara**  
Summary**: Pre-Bleach. Yoruichi tells Urahara about a certain invention's name change.**  
Word Count**: 310**  
****Warnings**: None**  
A/N**: Crack, with a side of OOC.

* * *

The former captain merely blinked. "Soul Candy?" She watched him splutter, "_Gikongan_ are not candy. Candy implies that it's enticing, pleasant, and to be enjoyed. Sweet even. Yes, they were at first a bit chalky in taste, much like downing an antacid, and I can understand that with the flavor modifications and outward change in appearance they appear like can—"

She needed to put a stop to his babbling before he _really_ got on a roll. "The Women's Shinigami Association requested a name change because _Gikongan_ was not _cute_."

"As in the _name_? Is this all that Women's Lib in Soul Society's got to worry about nowadays, because I remember the days when you were fighting against clan heads because they protested your appointment as heir."

"Believe me, I remember. I'm sure I'd receive absolute hell from the clan elders now, with them probably gloating about 'being right.'" She uncaringly waved her hand around. "Though, truth be told, the Women's Shinigami Association did not exist when we were captains, and the only reason it exists now is for a little girl to get her sweets every week. I'm sure the older members do discuss actual issues every now and then."

Urahara huffed. "_Gikongan_ is not meant to be cute."

"You're reminding me of a certain despicable scientific sadist you took out of the Maggot's Nest without my knowledge..."

"Your men came to you about looking into it," he defended.

She stood straighter, crossing her arms beneath her bosom. "Excuse me? I didn't exactly expect you to ask him to join your squad and release him. I had thought you were smarter than that, but I suppose even geniuses can have lapses in judgment."

"I suppose my not naming _Gikongan_ 'Soul Candy' is also a lapse in judgment?"

Yoruichi took his hat from his head and whacked him with it.


	17. Freak

**Title**: Freak  
**Rating**: K+  
**Pairing/Characters**: Urahara, Zaraki  
**Warnings**: Mild cursing.  
**Summary**: Need a sitter? Urahara Shop at your service!  
**Word Count**: 210  
**A/N**: I found this while browsing through my writing folder. Totally forgot I had written it.

* * *

"Ya sure you'll be fine with her?"

"Of course, of course!" the man waved his fan flamboyantly. "Vice Captain Yachiru will have lots of fun at my shop, and better yet with my two charges! No worries!" He hid a smirk behind the folds of his fan, receiving a look from the larger man before him.

"Alright," his guest responded gruffly. "The Fruit will bring her by in the morning. Any damage that's done, I ain't paying for." Zaraki began to walk away, but turned once more. "I've heard from lots of folks that even though ya look and act like a damn freak, ya strong as hell. I mean ya trained Ichigo, right?" Urahara simply gazed over the edge of his fan, his eyes shaded ever so cleverly by his hat. "When I get back from this damn vacation this she-demon's forcing me on, be ready for a fight."

Urahara's eyes widened, considering the possibility of someone picking Yachiru up earlier than intended and going on a vacation himself so as not to fight that beast of a man. Not that he believed he couldn't win—he may have been a lowly, perverted shopkeeper, but he had many tricks up his sleeves. _He_ just didn't want to _kill him_.


End file.
